Face Off
by terrified-plant
Summary: Zira and Crawl reveal their true colors literally. Very mild slash.


A/N: I was so bored so I thought I'd have a crack at making a fanfic. It's not so bad, I think. A (made up) episode in the lives of our favorite angel and demon.

Disclaimer: Good Omens (characters and all) belongs to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. T-T

Face Off

"I feel like sushi tonight."

"What?"

"Sushi. Tonight. Wanna?"

Crowley stepped inside the gloomy bookshop, grinning as he approached the counter. There, surrounded by a mountain of old tomes, was Aziraphale, squinting at the doorway to identify the newcomer.

"Oh, it's you." The angel breathed a sigh of guilty relief.

"Tsk tsk. What happened to resolutions, then?" Crowley asked almost cheerfully, pushing books aside and plopping down on the counter. He was in quite a mischievous mood, having just successfully pulled a pretty shrewd albeit not very demonic practical joke on some unsuspecting townsfolk. The joke involved a tube of super glue, and chopsticks. And granted, that somehow ruins the point of his own resolutions, but what Aziraphale didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Crowley, not the angel.

Aziraphale scowled.

"I'll get right down to it. I'm just- just- just fixing up the place. Yes. Sheesh. Some demons think they know everything." He said in a rush, turning slightly pink. Well it wasn't exactly a lie. He had meant to fix up and open early. Only when he took the books off the shelves, he couldn't resist peeking inside each of them, and he sort of lost track of the time. He didn't tell Crowley that he'd dug up a load of children's books, textbooks, cookbooks, and the like to stick into the front shelves. His precious collection was to be placed in the farthest, highest, hardest to reach shelves that a spider would have grown a moustache and a beard before it reached the place and built a home there.

Crowley snorted. "Right," he reached over and cupped Aziraphale's chin in his hands. "I know you from head to toe, Aziraphale."

"You don't even really like sushi." Aziraphale said, trying to change the topic.

"Oh, I figured it'd be good for you. You like sushi, don't you?" Crowley replied nonchalantly, giving Aziraphale's chin gentle squeezes.

"Of course I d- what do you mean it would be good for ME?"

Crowley didn't answer. Instead, he continued playing with the angel's chin and shooting him meaningful looks.

Aziraphale sighed and brushed Crowley's hand off. "Alright, Ha Ha Ha very funny. Joke's over. Now what do you really want?"

"Dinner?" the demon answered, putting on a would-be innocent expression. It was about as innocent as the face of the cat who had just swallowed the family's goldfish, and then washed it down with the family's lovebirds.

Aziraphale gave him a calculating look before saying "Alright. But no sushi tonight, please."

The state of his human appearance was a subject Crowley liked to rub in, and the angel had always been a bit sensitive about that.

"Just let me put these books back," Aziraphale grabbed a few of the heavy books and traipsed to the back of the shop. Crowley decided to grab the remaining books and followed Aziraphale, just to see what the back looked like. He never really liked being in the shop, seeing as for the past years, Aziraphale made it a point to turn the place as unpleasant as possible in case there were any potential customers. Crowley wasn't an exception, as far as people-who-found-the-place-unpleasant goes.

He found Aziraphale teetering on top of an age old wooden ladder.

"For gosh sakes, Aziraphale. Have mercy on the ladder; it can't carry the weight of those books as well as yours." the demon said in an amused voice.

"Crowley- my dear boy, why don't you just wait for me somewhere? I'll manage this." Aziraphale said, trying not to lose his temper. Crowley's merciless everyday references to his weight was starting to take a toll on his patience.

"Ritz?"

"Jolly good."

Crowley put the books down on the floor and went off as Aziraphale stepped down the ladder. He picked up the remaining books, and climbed up again. On his fifth step, the ladder's rung gave way and he crashed to the floor, books and all.

As he opened the door, Crowley heard the crash and frustrated cry from somewhere in the back.

It said: "Bugger it all!!!"

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Crowley poured himself some wine, and twirled the glass in his fingers, watching the lights play on the crystal. He had been waiting for just over an hour, but he was still debating with himself whether Aziraphale was going to turn up or not. That scream had sounded plenty annoyed, now that he thought about it. He hoped he had not pushed it too far.

He put the glass to his lips and tipped the contents down his throat. At least that's what he meant to do, until the door opened and in came a young man with the most devastatingly beautiful face and figure. He scanned the room, spotted Crowley, and walked over kind of shyly to his table. Crowley choked on his wine and started coughing, making what's left of the wine dribble all over the front of his suit. With a slightly worried face, the newcomer watched him coughing up a lung.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long." His voice was gentle and somewhat musical. A voice spoken by the face that Crowley hadn't seen since...well, since the Beginning. When he was still Up There, He watched this being from afar, admiring and at the same time, envying the other cherubim whom e was with.

"Aziraphale," He managed to breathe. His voice seemed to be stuck in his throat. "What are you doing here like that?"

"I know. Do you think it's too much?" Aziraphale whispered worriedly.

"People are staring," Crowley pointed out, inconspicuously making the stains on his suit vanish. He turned and stared at the angel with an expression that demanded an explanation.

He couldn't keep it up for long, though. The sight of that absurdly beautiful face made one's eyes hurt, especially if one hasn't seen the likes of it for well over a thousand years. Also, because it was making pleading faces at him, and he couldn't stand those huge pale eyes looking at him like that. It made his face heat up.

"Come on, angel. Out with it." He rasped, picking up the menu and pretending to be interested in reading it. He couldn't get rid of Aziraphale in his peripheral vision though.

"Well, it was either this or risk copying a human's face, see..." Aziraphale started.

Crowley held up a hand and Aziraphale's voice trailed away.

"Hungry?"

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"Wow," Crowley mused. "Wow."

"What, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, walking lightly alongside him.

"You're in your original appearance. Doesn't it bother you?" the demon said, still absorbed by what he'd seen tonight. Aziraphale gave him a puzzled look.

"Why would it bother me?"

"I don't know," Crowley gritted his teeth. _More likely, it bothers me_. he thought. "You've had about half a dozen humans fall in love with you since we left the restaurant." _And one demon._

Aziraphale sighed. "It figures. This isn't meant for human eyes after all, is it? I suppose I should change back into-"

The angel's voice was suddenly muffled by what appeared to be Crowley's lips.

"Crowley-!" Aziraphale squeaked. He pulled away, panting heavily, face flushed.

Crowley didn't appear to be listening.

"Ssh.. close your eyes." He leaned in and kissed Aziraphale again, but this time, the angel didn't retaliate anymore. He'd finally gotten the angel to cooperate. Crowley felt something melt away. He pulled back gently.

Aziraphale stared openly at the demon, apparently too surprised to speak. Here was a face he hadn't seen for the longest time. Since before the Beginning. A face almost as absurdly and inhumanly beautiful that didn't belong on earth. He had seen this face... this figure... flitting around playfully on the clouds Up There. And he had seen it Fall.

"What? Haven't ever seen a demon before?" Crowley asked in an enchanting voice, giving a grin that would've made any human who saw it kill himself, and die happily.

Aziraphale laughed in his musical voice, leaning on Crowley for support. The demon joined in, their voices filling the air, and making humans nearby wonder what kind of new pop group was coming on next. They both collapsed down on the ground. Crowley leaned forward, burying his face in Aziraphale's soft hair.

"Aziraphale?"

"Hm?"

"You're... kind of heavy."

Before the angel could snap, the sound of many feet running made them both look up. They exchanged nervous glances.

"Uh-oh,"

"Your fans?"

Aziraphale surveyed Crowley's inhumanly beautiful face.

"Not for long."

"Run!!!"

He had been suckered into joining the rebel angels. Hey, who didn't want some excitement in their lives? (apparently he wasn't counting on _that_ much excitement)

Fallen angels are every bit as beautiful as the not-fallen ones.

It was an Aziraphale thing, apparently


End file.
